


Night Terrors

by MagicalStranger13



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 13:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5207621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MagicalStranger13/pseuds/MagicalStranger13
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A violent storm triggers rumination and a childhood memory in a wakeful Bog King.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night Terrors

**Author's Note:**

> Can't believe I'm currently working on four different stories at once and then this idea randomly pops up and I can't ignore it. Inspiration's a fickle mistress. Hope you guys enjoy!

Every once in a while, at the true peak of Spring, a storm would come to the Dark Forest.  Not just a simple thunderstorm, but a mighty tempest.  A force of nature that would shake the trees to their roots and wash anything unsecured to the forest floor away to oblivion. 

Thankfully, the new goblin castle was sturdy as a boulder, but certainly not sound proof.  Bog had always been a light sleeper and on a night like this, such a quirk was made more obvious than ever.  Since the first patter of rain against the window, he’d roused from his slumber in favor of laying wide awake to listen to the squall and observe the visual affect it was having on the dark bedchamber. 

With each flash of lightning, Bog caught the shadows of the surrounding branches shielding his new home; painted black and sharp against the wall.  He felt the slight vibrations from every peal of thunder.  The wind howled like a demon from hell and the roar of the rain guaranteed that plenty of areas would be flooded come morning.  He was grateful that Marianne had helped him warn all the citizens from both kingdoms to seek higher sheltered ground for the evening.  

Speaking of his Tough Girl, she was sleeping quite soundly beside him, all curled up in a ball and snuggled into the pelt comforter.  He was somewhat amazed that she _could_ sleep through all this racket, but he supposed is was just a conditioned result of growing up in the Fairy Kingdom.  Those bright, wide open fields were constantly abuzz with sound.  Twittering birds, chirping crickets and chattering squirrels, the occasional whir of dragonfly wings and the gentle swish of the grass dancing in the wind; not to mention the constant laughing and singing of the elves and fairies themselves! 

Oddly enough, it was the Dark Forest that was known for being frightening not only for its ever-present darkness and deadly predators, but its haunting silence.  He had no idea where anyone got this impression.  The Dark Forest was plenty noisy; he should know, he’d only been born and raised here. 

But…

…it was noisy in a different kind of way.

There was more subtlety to it.  Whereas the Fairy Kingdom’s sounds were like the energetic pops and crackles of a fire, the sounds of the Dark Forest were spell-bindingly deep, muted and steady; like a rushing river.  The croaking toads, the quiet cries of the loons and night owls, the periodic rumble of distant thunder, the whistle of the wind through the canopy and the groan of the old, mighty trees.

Such sounds, including the wildest of storms, had always been a comfort to Bog.  Though he could certainly understand the discomfort of others when facing such a din, even Marianne had some trouble adjusting at first, for _him_ it just meant the forest was alive and well.  _True_ silence was what unnerved him. 

He remembered such a night when he faced that kind of silence...

It was many years ago, when he was still nothing but a wee lad.  His mother and father had taken him along with them on a journey to visit some dignitary he couldn’t recall.  He’d been very excited that day, because the royal family would have to stay the night in the dignitary’s home.  Apparently, by the time whatever business the Briar King had needed to address was concluded, it would be too late to travel the long and treacherous distance back to the castle. 

Unfortunately, as soon as Griselda had snuffed out the candle and closed the door to Bog’s guest room behind her, the young prince’s excitement had instantly turned to apprehension. 

He had vague memories of the grownups talking about a recent forest fire around that time and supposedly, the dignitary’s house was located a stone’s throw away from where the flames were finally extinguished.  He remembered his mother scolding him to not play in the ash pits while they’d walked the grounds earlier that day. 

It hadn’t really registered in his child mind then, but many creatures had died in the fire and countless trees and foliage were wiped off the map; and with them, went the sound.  The forest had been terribly wounded, leaving nothing but tragic stillness behind.  However, to little ones, the aura of indirect tragedy isn’t often grasped.  Instead, what Bog caught was the chilling, empty silence. 

The guest chamber was much too large for a lad his size, and filled with ancient, twisty furniture that cast grotesque shadows against the moonlight all around him.  The beloved and familiar noises of the forest were dead here. 

And in their place, grew something far more sinister.  Every day, indoor sounds slowly morphed into a hideous cacophony that soon had him drawing the covers up to his nose. 

The whispering tick of the clock escalated to deafening snaps.  The creaking of the dignitary’s grand home graduated to shrieking and moaning.  The soft beat of his tiny heart raced to an incessant pounding in his ears. 

No animals.

No storms.

No trees.

No goblins.

Nothing but the screaming sound of his own fear.  The fear of a boy all alone in a terrifying room, in a strange house, surrounded by death. 

With a frightened gasp, Bog finally leapt out of the bed and sprinted across to the room to the door connecting his parents’ guest chamber to his own.  Clutching his stuffed mushroom doll to his chest and struggling to keep his knees from wobbling, he pushed open the door and called to his mother.

“Bog?”  Griselda sat up and brushed her wiry red hair from her face.  “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

“Mom, I dorn’t like this place.  I wanna go home.”

“Oh honey, I know it’s not what you’re used to, but it’s just for tonight, then we’ll go home tomorrow morning, I promise.  Try to go back to sleep, okay?”

“It’s scary in my room.  Can I sleep in here?”

“Wha’ is all this blasted haverin’?!”  Bellowed the irate voice of his father as he too, sat up in bed and glared ice flints at his only son.  “’Sleep in _here’_?!  Yer thah Briar Prince, no’ a simperin’ whelp!  Now ye ge’ back in tha’ room before I tan yer hide, boy!  _GO_!”

Fighting tears, Bog turned and ran back to his bed without shutting the door.  Even with his face pressed against the pillow, he could still hear his parents’ following heated exchange:

* _whack_!*

“OW!  Wha’ thah bludy hell did ye do tha’ for?!”

“You are impossible!”

“What the-?!  Where thah devil are ye _goin’_ , woman?!”

“ _I_ am going to sleep in my son’s room!”

“Yer _wha’_?!  Ye cannae do tha’!

“Wanna bet?”

“He’s go’ tah learn tah toughen tha’ skin o’ his!  I ferbid ye tah coddle thah boy!" 

“Watch me.”

“But….but….but _I_ cannae _sleep_ withou’ ye!”

 “ _You’re_ the _Briar King_ , not a _simperin’ whelp_!”  Griselda mocked, now climbing into the bed beside her son and yelling over her shoulder at her husband.  “Toughen _your_ skin, you old cockroach!”

Bog refused to cuddle back, but he did feel a warm wave of comfort and safety envelop him once his mother wrapped her arms around his wiry frame.

“It’s alright, darling.  Mommy’s here.”

Not two minutes passed before they both flinched at the sound of the connecting door slamming shut.  Then came the unmistakable stomping footsteps of Briar marching towards them. 

“Well, look who decided to join the party!”  Griselda chuckled.

“Shut yer gob, ye dingbat.”  The goblin king grouched as he squeezed himself into the bed’s remaining free space.   Huffing, he rolled over, firmly presenting his winged back to his wife and son. 

The Briar Queen rolled her eyes with an indulgent smile, kissed Bog’s head and settled back down.

For a long moment, not another word was given and the prince was finally beginning to feel sleepy.  The disturbing silence from before was kept at bay by the barrier of his parents' bodies and the gentle sounds of their breathing.  He was just about to drift off when he thought he heard his father speak again.

“I’s still foolish o’ ye tah be afraid......”

.

.

.

“……as if I’d evar le’ anythin’ happen to ye.”  

* * *

 

“Mommy?”

Bog’s reminiscing trance was broken by the tentative sound of his son, Rock.  Marianne was already stirring in response to the call.  She might’ve been able to sleep through a hurricane, but only the voice of her husband and child could bring her to consciousness in a wink.

“Rock?”  She replied, sitting up and looking over at the five year old standing in the doorway.  “What is it, honey?”

“I’m scared.”  The prince whimpered, rubbing a fist in his eye.  “Can I sleep with you and Daddy tonight?”

In a flash, Bog was across the room, scooping the boy into his arms and carrying him to the master bed.  As soon as the child was set down on the mattress, he tucked himself against Marianne’s side and was out like a light. 

“Careful there.”  The Bog Queen grinned as her king stroked Rock’s hair with his claws.  “You’re starting to spoil him.”

“No’ at all.”  He happily sighed, leaning over to give her a peck on her violet lips.  “Jus’ protectin’ him.”

**Author's Note:**

> Poor Briar. He tries so hard. Definitely gonna write some more for him and Griselda later!  
> Comments and kudos make me write faster!  
> <3


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